


white ferrari

by supernover



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Oops, Recreational Drug Use, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernover/pseuds/supernover
Summary: "When I was a kid, I used to dream about Top of the Pops all the time. I kept imagining myself being invited on that show with my band. [...] I remember my first appearance on Top of the Pops with Blur like it was yesterday. It was a big day for me. 1991, I think. We had just put out our first single, 'There’s No Other Way'. I was extremely excited, so one of the bosses at my record label gave me ecstasy. [...] I had been waiting for this moment all my life." - Damon Albarn
Relationships: Damon Albarn/Graham Coxon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	white ferrari

**Author's Note:**

> [insert obligatory 'don't do drugs' statement here]

Graham slammed the door behind him, stomping into the hotel room behind Damon. Only an hour ago, they were on Top of the Pops making their big television debut—something they’d been craving their whole lives. Their first step towards leading the lives they’d wanted. It could’ve been everything that they’d always dreamt of. When they were informed that they would be lip syncing, Graham was seething, but still somewhat hopeful. When the boss of their record label slipped both Damon and Alex molly prior to their performance, he was fuming. It wasn’t right at all. It was absolutely miserable and overbearingly upsetting. During their performance, Graham hid his frustration just as well Alex and Damon concealed their drug-induced frenzy—not at all.

Damon flopped onto the bed, blissfully oblivious as he rolled around on the soft duvet. “I feel amazing,” Damon cooed, touching his hair, his ears, his lips, humming. He felt like his insides were glowing. His hands slid down to his chest, arching into it, unabashedly putting himself on display for the other boy, quietly hoping he’d release his frustrations on his body, writhing with want. The world grew fuzzy in the coziest of ways. He snickered at Graham’s expression, face all contorted and crinkled up in anger.

“Yeah?” he chirped with mock interest, voice dripping with venom.

“Mhm,” Damon purred, biting his bottom lip and batting his lashes, feigning innocence to only irritate Graham further.

"We looked like fucking idiots. Do you even care?” he spat with a growl, pacing about the diameter of the small room.

Damon’s words slurred together, tumbling off of his tongue ungracefully. “Let me make it up to you.” Graham’s heart fluttered at the proposition, holding his breath when Damon leapt off of the bed to approach him. His curiosity grew when Damon buried his fists into his pockets, frantically fishing for something. With a gentle, yet demanding grip, he wrapped his slender fingers around Graham’s wrist, holding his hand out in front of him. Graham winced, hoping Damon wouldn’t comment on the sweat that had accumulated on his palms—nervous. Instead, he pressed a small baggie into the center of his hand. Graham exhaled a heavy sigh.

“I don’t want this crap,” he grumbled.

“I didn’t, either—” Graham didn’t want to think of the implications of that, “but it feels so good.”

Graham shook his head. “Damon—“

“I’m so happy,” he interrupted, and Graham could feel his heart ache for him. “I haven’t felt this happy,” he paused, nose scrunching up as he began laughing softly to himself, "since we were kids.”

Those kids are gone. Dead. There’s hardly a trace of them that remains, and every day it only got worse. A side effect of the industry, Graham reasoned, staring into Damon’s heavy-lidded eyes, buzzing with euphoria, body swaying hypnotically slow to the rhythm of a nonexistent song. It was never supposed to be like this. Admittedly, he longed to feel the way they did back then. He discarded the contents of the bag—two small, white pills—onto his palm, studying them with a furrowed brow, reevaluating the proposition. When his eyes met Damon’s again, they were looking back expectantly. He brought his hand towards his mouth, taking a deep breath and popping one in before allowing himself to think on it any further.

“Now, we wait.”

Twelve minutes pass.

“Do you feel it, yet?” Damon inquired, dimming the lights. He stared up at the fixtures, eyes sparkling with interest, yet so very distant.

Graham squinted at his hands in his lap—still just as boring and normal as ever—then shook his head decidedly. “How will I know?”

Damon chuckled. “You’ll know.”

Twenty-two minutes pass.

They were situated on the bed of the hotel room, now. Graham was smiling brightly at Damon. He knew that the other was high by now—sober Graham always felt the need to shy away whenever he’d smile. “You’re so beautiful to me,” Graham whispered, mesmerized by Damon.

“You wanted to punch me nearly half an hour ago,” he chuckled, bringing a bottle of beer to his lips and taking a swig, watching in amusement as Graham became more and more entranced by his features.

“So fucking pretty,” Graham murmured, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, reaching out to drag his thumb across Damon’s lower lip.

His lips parted obediently, huffing a disappointed sigh when Graham’s hand fell to his chest. “You always say that.” ‘Whenever you want to fuck me’, he thought.

Graham inched closer, eyes fixated on Damon’s mouth. His whole body felt like it was vibrating with the desire to kiss the other man. “You always are,” he rasped, desperation evident in his tone. Their lips were only barely touching. Damon shivered at the contact, slight as it may be. “I love you,” Graham mumbled, words heavy and sweet on his swollen tongue. It was something he’d expressed frequently, but only ever in sobriety, making certain to tread lightly in that uncharted territory of his emotions. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d told him. He couldn’t recall the last time the both of them were sober together. The stars just wouldn’t align in such a way anymore, nowadays. He leaned back just as slowly as he’d leaned forward, needing to look at Damon in this moment, needing to remember him as he was right then—like a picture. Still as stunning as ever. His palms grew slick with sweat that he wiped dry against his jeans, continuing to drag them against the seemingly endless plane of his incredibly long legs to revel in the feeling of the cool denim against his clammy hands.

“How much?” Damon teased, with a hint of genuine curiosity in his tone.

Graham’s eyes returned to his lap as brows knitted together in concentration, carefully crafting a suitable answer amidst the pleasant fog occupying his mind. “Too much.”

Although he was lightyears away, the love in his sentiment was so abundantly evident to Damon. A brief moment of sobriety overcame him, abrupt and jarring to his senses, and he frowned. Would he ever see this side of Graham without the ecstasy in his system? Graham lightly dragged his fingertips over his palm with a shiver, too enraptured by vividly renewed sensations to notice Damon’s disappointment. It was as if he was experiencing his own body for the first time. Curiously, his fingers trailed down the soft path of his inner arm, tracing his veins with a touch almost too gentle to bear. Damon bit down on his lip hard, watching Graham intently as he got lost in himself with the faintest smile spread across his soft lips. Damon’s concerns were momentarily clouded with want. “Graham.”

Graham’s eyes lazily flicked up to meet his. “Damo—“

Without further warning, Damon’s lips crashed against Graham’s, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to tug him closer. Graham’s lips parted with a surprised gasp, eyes fluttering shut as he melted into the kiss. Damon's tongue worked its way into his mouth with a muffled hum, reveling in the lingering taste of wine he chugged prior to their performance. Their performance. God, he wasn’t prepared for the aftermath, for whatever lecture their manager would have prepared. He couldn’t give a shit about it, now—he could feel Graham’s heart thumping against his chest. He was so in love. So, so, stupidly in love with the boy clumsily trying to wiggle into his lap. Graham's fingers curled into quivering fists on his thighs, shaking with frustration, confusion, and arousal at the sudden affectionate attack. Finally, he gathered himself long enough to retaliate, licking into Damon’s mouth, grinning against his lips when he felt the other boy shiver beneath him. He’s never been this needy, Graham mused, palming at his own erection until his breaths grew short. He pried himself from Damon, pressing a shaky hand into his heaving chest to stop him from hastily chasing after his lips. He needed to breathe—he needed to think. Only partially resigned, Damon grunted, rutting against Graham’s knee and panting into the small space separating them.

“Damon,” he sighed, pushing his forehead against Damon’s.

“Graham,” he replied. “Graham,” he said again, echoing himself in a whisper, if only to savor the bittersweetness of the other’s name as it danced across his tongue.

“What happens when this wears off?”

He frowned in response, gnawing at his bottom lip. He didn’t consider that. He didn’t want to. Instead, he dug through his pockets again, retrieving the remaining pill. Graham watched in contemplative silence as Damon used his thumbnail to split the tiny, chalky tablet into two tinier, chalky pieces. Before Graham could protest, one of the halves disappeared between Damon’s lips as he held the other out to Graham with a trembling hand.

“I don’t know,” Graham murmured, averting his gaze.

“You’re scared,” Damon whispered, remorseful. He shouldn’t have asked him to do this in the first place, especially taking into consideration how often he’d shame the other for his equally unhealthy drinking habits. It was an act of selfishness—something the two of them were very familiar with, at this point. More than anything, he just wanted to be happy with Graham, again.

Graham corrected his posture, sitting tall, defiant. He wasn’t Damon’s to protect. He was hardly Damon’s at all, anymore. “Am not,” he hissed, rolling far too hard to realize just how childish he’d sounded.

In a daze, Damon just laughed, shrugging off all of his worries prior as they quickly melted away, replaced with sheer euphoria. “I’m sorry. Give me a kiss.” He pushed the other half against his tongue as the corners of his mouth twitched to form a wicked smile Graham couldn’t ever resist.

“Right.” His voice was so breathy. He winced, his tough facade crumbling, hating how much his voice would always give away. He slotted his mouth against Damon’s messily, tongues wriggling against each other until the bitter, halved pill slid down his throat—a feeling of unease following.

“I love you, too, Graham,” he whispered against hesitant lips, cradling his head in his hands, shaking just as hard as they did when they’d shared their first kiss, all those years ago. Those kids were strangers, now.

“I miss you.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is sad and not very raunchy at all sorry I was listening to Frank Ocean lol


End file.
